


The Cold Days of Winter

by Daegaer



Category: Eight Days of Luke - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Angrboða, Family, Friendship, Gen, Yuletide, Yuletide 2011
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years after the events in which he met Luke, David discovers that an unknown young woman will be staying with his housemates and him. He is disconcerted that she seems to want something from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cold Days of Winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluestalking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestalking/gifts).



> Thank you to my lovely beta-readers, Puddingcat and Enigel!

Some snow, the weather forecast had said. David looked out of the kitchen window at the blizzard and shook his head in disbelief. Surely all his lectures would be cancelled in the morning, he thought. It was hard to imagine anyone would venture out in such weather – he'd had a difficult enough job getting back from spending Christmas with Astrid. He checked his watch. She should be home by now; he should ring to make sure she was all right, but the phone was in the hall, and there was no radiator there. He'd freeze. He gave it another half hour, then put his coat on and braved the hall. He dropped the coins into the slot and called. Astrid's number rang and rang, but he held on. She never answered quickly.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Astrid – I just wanted to know if you're all right. It looks like there'll be more snow here by tomorrow, what about with you?"

"Oh, it took me _hours_ to get home today! We all left at three, and I got home just a bit before you rang; I had one of my heads by the time I got in." She laughed a little; her headaches had become a joke between them. The real ones had got fewer once she no longer had the stress of being married to Cousin Ronald. "Did your landlord fix the radiators?"

"They're working OK at the minute," David said, huddling deeper into his coat. "Maybe you shouldn't try to go to work tomorrow."

"Maybe. Maybe you should stay home, too."

"Maybe," David said. "I'd better go, Astrid, it's really cold in the hall." He spent a minute or two assuring her he really was fine, and hung up, grateful to retreat back to the warmth of the kitchen. Five minutes later the phone rang.

"Can you get that?" Phil yelled from his room.

"Sorry! Doing something!" David yelled back, making a cup of tea. A moment later he heard the sound of Phil running down the stairs, grumbling. There was no _way_ he was going back into the cold until he'd warmed himself up properly, he thought. He was halfway through his tea when the kitchen door opened and Phil came in, shivering.

"That was Sal," he said, putting the kettle on again. "Her mum fell in the snow – she's staying home to mind her. Are there any biscuits left?"

"None of the chocolate ones, we ate all those before Christmas," David said. "Poor Mrs Taylor."

"Yeah – anyway, Sal said a friend of her sister is in town for a bit and that she could use her room. Do you mind?"

David shrugged. "It's fine with me if it's all right with everyone else."

"I don't mind and can't see Janet minding," Phil said. "Anyway, I already said it would be all right."

The matter closed, they ate the rest of the biscuits.

 

* * *

 

"There's a girl here who says she's going to stay in Sal's room?" Janet said, looking in some annoyance at David and Phil as they ate breakfast. "What's going on?"

"Sal's mum fell," Phil said. "This girl's a friend of her sister. Didn't David tell you?"

"I thought you told her!" David said.

"Useless," Janet muttered. "So, how long's this girl staying? When is Sal coming back?"

They shrugged and she went back out, casting her eyes up to heaven. A few moments later she came back, followed by a tall, broad-faced young woman whose fair hair was scraped back into a tight plait.

"That's David, that's Phil, they're useless," Janet said. "This is Angie. I'll show you where Sal's room is – do you need a hand with your bag?"

"No," Angie said, and a split second too late, "thanks."

"Come on," Janet said in clear irritation, and led her away.

"She's going to have a heart attack before she's thirty unless she learns to go with the flow," Phil said mildly.

"She's still annoyed about you clogging the loo before the break," David said, refilling his mug.

"I wasn't the one throwing women's _things_ down it," Phil said. "We all suffered equally, there was no need for her to put on the shrill valkyrie act."

"Phil -"

"Right, right, we're not allowed call women _shrill_ any more."

There was no point, David thought, in explaining that wasn't the word he'd meant.

 

* * * 

 

It was snowing again. They all sat in the kitchen, drinking tea and reading old magazines. There was no point in even _trying_ to get to lectures. It was a wonder Angie had made it to the house before the snow started, David thought.

"Did you have a lot of trouble getting here?" he asked.

"No," she said, and, after a pause in which she seemed to realise it might be polite to say more, added, "I walked. I don't mind the cold."

"Well, there's enough cold for everyone," Phil said. He sighed. "I have an essay I have to finish. Nobody call me unless there's hot food or Ragnarok starts."

David watched him go. There was no point in saying anything, not unless he wanted to look like a complete weirdo. What normal person got offended by that sort of thing, anyway? He looked back to find Angie's pale blue eyes fixed on the door through which Phil had gone. After a few moments she turned to look at him as intently as she had stared after Phil. He wondered if she was really as sad as she looked.

"More tea?" he asked, just to have something to say. She shook her head.

"I'd better finish my essay too," Janet said. "I bet they won't take the snow into account and I'll get in trouble for handing it in late."

"She is very discontent with the world," Angie said, when the door had shut behind Janet.

"She's all right," David said, feeling he should stand up for his housemates. "Don't let it bother you."

"It doesn't bother me," Angie said. "I've known many like her."

"Bad weather for a trip," David said. "I hope your plans haven't been thrown out too much?"

"I'm hoping to see some old friends," she said. "If I can track them down." She looked out the window. "The weather doesn't worry me." As she said it, the pipes made an odd squealing sound, and David groaned.

"Not _again_. The landlord said he'd _fixed_ that -" He went from room to room, finding the heat in the radiators fading. "Damn," he muttered, and went up to the first landing and opened Janet's door. "The heating -"

"I know, I heard it and I'm busy," she said, not taking her eyes from the pad of foolscap.

" - All right," David said, and closed the door. From upstairs he could hear Wagner from Phil's room and decided that if the other two got too cold they'd come down themselves. He went back to the kitchen to find Angie drinking the last of the tea. "You should probably put your coat on," he said.

"There's a fireplace in the front room. We could make a fire," she said.

"We don't have coal, or firelighters."

"There are broken chairs in the yard," she said, nodding towards the window. "And you're all students – you must have lots of paper we could use to start it."

"All right," David said slowly. "Those old kitchen chairs have been there for ages, the landlord keeps saying he'll take them but he never does." He went out into the yard, followed by her, and picked up a chair leg. He winced as Angie brought her foot down hard on the crossbar of one of the chairs and picked up it and the loosened legs.

"Do you have an axe?" she said, picking up the seat as well. "No? Well, I suppose it'll burn well enough as it is."

They went back in and David scrunched up pages of an old newspaper for kindling, laying it carefully in the grate. Angie made a tripod of splinters and cardboard round the paper, and stepped back.

"Now," she said. "Light it."

David stood there, the match in his hands for over a minute, unmoving. _What are you afraid of?_ he thought. He had long since told himself that the events of the summer when he was twelve were just memories of an overactive imagination. Was he really worried that Luke would suddenly appear, reproach in his eyes at having been ignored for so long? No, he thought. He was worried Luke wouldn't. Or that – he closed his eyes. Luke's presence had be the promise of all sorts of things, an exciting, wonderful life, and if he turned up now what would he find? That David had ignored him for years and was now ordinary and boring, sharing a horrible house with people he wasn't sure he liked or that liked him.

"You light it," he said. "I'm trying to give up smoking and lighting matches will just make me want a cigarette."

Angie looked sceptical, and he didn't blame her, hearing such an obvious lie. She took the matches and lit one, coaxing the fire to life. She sank to the floor, feeding it larger splinters, and working up to the chair legs they had piled in the hearth. "Sit and get warm," she said. "Fire is man's friend in the dark wilds of winter."

David obeyed and sat on the carpet, watching her watching the fire. It was a bit embarrassing, sitting there in silence. "Where are you from?" he asked. "Were you with your family for Christmas?"

"The north," she said. "No small place, but one not known by others. My family are scattered." She fed the fire more wood. "Are you far from your family?"

"Ah," David said. "It's sort of complicated. My family are – well, there was an accident and my parents died. It's OK, I don't remember them all that well. I was sort of brought up by their cousins, but they left me, and my cousin's wife, Astrid – his ex-wife now – she took care of me. She's nicer than my actual family."

"Motherless, and mothered by one who is no mother," Angie said quietly. "An abandoned child befriended by one who abandoned children."

"Sorry?" David said in confusion. "Astrid didn't abandon me -"

"It doesn't matter," Angie said, looking at him. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

" - No," he said. "Janet and Sal, they're not Phil and my girlfriends, we just share the house." She was still looking at him, her pale eyes unblinking. "Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked, a shade desperately.

"The man I loved left me for someone prettier," she said, as calm as if she didn't care at all. "I thought I had given him enough to want to stay."

"But you are pretty!" David said chivalrously, wishing she were having this conversation with someone else. This was the sort of thing girls were supposed to say to other girls, he thought, not to young men they'd only met that day.

"I had heard you people were often kind," she said, and he belatedly thought she was asking him to kiss her. He didn't really want to, but if she needed kindness he would do it, he thought. It didn't seem like something he could avoid, having been so vehement that she was pretty; to retreat now would seem like he agreed with her boyfriend's reasoning. So he took her hands in his and leant forward to press his lips against hers. She was half hot, half cold from sitting side on to the fire. David's mouth dried and he felt himself quail as he realised that the hand with which she had fed the fire was as cold as ice and her other hand was uncomfortably hot in his. He drew back a little and her fingers tightened like bands of iron so that he didn't think he could free himself.

"What is wrong?" she said, he voice echoing in a space that seemed suddenly much larger than the house's little front room.

"The fire," David said, the first thing that came to mind, "It's going out." As she turned to look her fingers loosened and he pulled one hand free. "I'll light it again," he said, and grabbed up the matchbox, spilling matches everywhere as he got one in his shaking fingers and, steadying the box under his foot, struck it.

Luke came through the door at a run, fury in his face.

"Get away from him," he said. "He's _mine_."

 

* * *

 

Luke looked older, still the same age as David. His red hair stood out against his pale skin, clashing with the angry colour in his cheeks. The door behind him was gone now, leaving only rough stone shading into thick darkness.

"You can't have him," he snapped, as David scuttled backwards across what was now an uneven stone floor, away from Angie, who sat calmly and immovably by the fire, her very shadow a solid presence.

"After I gave you so much, you begrudge me so little?" she said.

"Luke?" David said, ending up against Luke's shins, "Luke, do you know Angie?"

"We know each other very well," Angie said. "I've been looking for you, Luke." She stood up, and was wearing clothes other than the jumper and jeans David remembered. She brushed down her long skirts and stood, tall and straight, the firelight gleaming from the gold and amber brooches at her shoulders. "Do you know where I have been, all this time?"

"Do you know where _I've_ been?" he replied, stepping forward so he was half in front of David. He hunkered down and squeezed his shoulder, his hand very warm through David's clothes. "I hear it was more like house arrest for you." He gave David a quick, bright smile and stood again, leaving his hand resting lightly on his head.

"I have no pity to give, you know that," she said. "You had company."

"Mm," Luke said, off-handedly light. "Women, David, don't get involved with them, their jealousy lasts a thousand years." He sounded like he was smiling as he added, "Really, a thousand years, I'm not joking."

"Luke," David said as Angie's expression grew colder.

"It's all right. She'll leave you alone, you're with me. Say your piece, Angie, you have my attention."

"Slayer of sons, your own son slain, abandoner of children, you take up the abandoned," she said, and smiled as Luke's hand twitched on David's head. "You should remember a kinsman's duty; you have other children."

"And when the time comes they'll help me take the wergild I'm owed," he said.

"And what of what I'm owed?" she said. "For what cause was _I_ imprisoned? This boy thinks me unfairly treated by you and he wished to be kind to me, why shouldn't I take him?"

Luke looked down at David, a frown drawing his red-brown brows down. "I wasn't being unfair. I don't have to play by ordinary people's rules, you know that. Why would you think I'm unfair?"

"Luke," David tried to say, but he was suddenly cold and tired and all he wanted to do was sleep. He closed his eyes and leant more heavily on Luke's legs.

"Angie!" he heard Luke say, "If he offered you kindness, then for kindness' sake, _give him back_."

"But if I keep him it will bring you grief," she said. "And we must all do what we must do. Go to sleep, now, David. You will be well-greeted by my daughter."

"Ask for something else," Luke said fiercely. "Ask for something else – I owe him more than I can repay and he's my _friend_."

David found himself able to open his eyes again. Luke was sitting on the cold ground with him and he was in Luke's arms, curled against his chest. "Ask for something else," Luke said again.

Angie came closer looking down at them. "They said I wouldn't be freed until you were," she said. "I do not think they have ever wondered who else was set free once you slipped your chains. I too owe your friend a debt. Here then, is what I ask. Look, and remember." She handed something to Luke and stepped back. "Don't throw the word kindness at me, Luke," she said. "It's not kind for any of us to have dealings with him." She walked away into the dark, leaving David still cradled in Luke's arms, looking down in bemusement at what she had put into Luke's hand. It was a thick coil of hair, a coarse mass of reddish brindled fur wrapped round with a sleek black lock and bound together with what seemed to be snakeskin.

"Luke," he said, "who is she, what is it?"

"My first wife, and it's – just think of it as children's hair," Luke said, in a distant voice. "It doesn't matter."

David tried to wake up properly, feeling the front room's carpet beneath him once more. It was an odd thing for Luke to say, he thought, for some of the hair was definitely from a dog. Oh. _Oh_. Luke tightened his arms.

"Shh."

"I thought she was another student," he said, "dumped by a nasty boyfriend for being plain."

"That's not why – you can't help who you fall in love with. I mean, you can help what you _do_ , or so I'm told. You might want to do things differently."

"You can feel love? People – like you, I mean?" David said. It was good to think of Luke being impetuous rather than mean-spirited.

"Yes, of course," Luke said and then he made the same mistake David had with Angie, thinking something was being asked for, and kissed him. Except maybe it wasn't a mistake at all, David thought, as he was suddenly properly awake, heat rushed all through him and he clutched Luke's arms and kissed back desperately, feeling a last knot of cold unclench within him and seeing a slight touch of worry in Luke's eyes dissolve into affectionate amusement.

It was warm and comfortable in Luke's arms, so David let himself relax again, limp against him. "Luke," he said, for he didn't want to have to explain things to the others when they came down in search of heat, "can you make the heating work?"

"That's a very little thing to ask for after all this time," Luke said. "Of course I can." There was a horrible gurgling noise and suddenly the radiator was blasting heat through the room.

"They don't really work like that," David said, and Luke laughed, the sound reverberating in his chest.

"It does now," he said. "I didn't mean for you to get dragged into another family quarrel. You should have called me sooner."

"Sorry," David said. "Does everyone in your family like to cause trouble?"

"Pretty much," Luke said. "There was only one who didn't." He sighed and was silent a while. "We have a lot of catching up to do. This snow will lift quickly now, you'll see - it'll be as much fun as it was before." He tucked the coil of hair and scales into his shirt and put both arms tight around David again.

"If I set you and Angie free early, maybe I've somehow changed all the stories," David said. "You know, given them happy endings. Maybe I can do something to make that happen."

"I'd settle for happier," Luke said, and peered down into his face. "You don't have to pay me back for Angie going away."

"If her children – if _your_ children were free, wouldn't that make you both happier?" David said.

Luke paused, then laughed. "I fall further and further into your debt and I don't care," he said. "Look, it's turning out to be a beautiful day."

Through the window David saw the sun had come out, its heatless winter light turning the world to an empty, white sparkling beauty. He imagined the light shining on endless scales and illuminating the tracks of wolf-prints in the snow, and looked back up into Luke's sharp, wicked grin.

He felt only joy, that the world was full of wonder once more.


End file.
